


You're In My Veins

by Gallixie



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Blood, Episode: s02e10 By the Light of Dawn, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, anyway jace loves simon and you can't stop me, i mean you saw the scene okay there was a lot of blood happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallixie/pseuds/Gallixie
Summary: “Stay with me, Simon,” he pleaded, and even he heard the desperation in his voice. He was reminded suddenly that he was meant to be playing the part of Clary. Clary, Simon’s girlfriend. Jace’s sister.But the fear in his chest was all too real, and it didn’t matter that he had forgotten; he didn’t need to pretend.(or, the 2x10 bite scene from Jace's POV)





	

Clary had told him; of course she had. If he was going to pretend to be her, he had to know what she knew. He had to know what Valentine had shown her, what he had done to Simon. He had gone in knowing exactly what to expect, knowing that Simon would need blood. Logically, he knew. But now, with ginger hair that was not his framing a face that belonged to someone else, he realized that actually seeing it was something else entirely.

Blood stained its way down Simon’s throat, soaking into his shirt and jacket. Jace felt his own blood freeze at the sight. Simon lay like a broken doll on the couch, his breath coming in shallow, shuddering gasps - and Jace couldn’t help but wonder if the breathing was only out of habit; vampires didn’t need to breathe. But they did need blood, and Simon had lost too much, was still losing it, blood continuing to drain out of the open wound on his neck.

“Simon.” The name fell from Jace’s lips, unbidden. And with those two syllables, he could breathe again - when had he stopped breathing? - and he leapt into action. “Hold on, okay?”

Giving the room a cursory glance, he grabbed the first sharp object within reach, fingers gripping it as if he could hold himself together if he clutched it tight enough. He lifted the letter opener to his wrist as he strode across the room, all but collapsing next to Simon.

Without another thought - because he couldn’t think, he couldn’t, not with Simon looking like that, and by the Angel if he didn’t make it - he carved a line of red into skin he did not recognize, feeling the blood seep out.

“Stay with me, Simon,” he pleaded, and even he heard the desperation in his voice. He was reminded suddenly that he was meant to be playing the part of Clary. Clary, Simon’s girlfriend. Jace’s sister.

But the fear in his chest was all too real, and it didn’t matter that he had forgotten; he didn’t need to pretend. He forced his hands to stay steady as he held his too-pale wrist up to Simon’s already bloodsoaked lips.

“Simon, please.” His words were met with nothing more than a heavy-lidded look, brown eyes dim with fatigue. The panic in Jace’s chest rose, even as he tried to push it down. “Come on, come on, Simon.”

He brought his wrist, slick with blood, closer to Simon even as the vampire moved his head back. Jace paused for a moment as he realized Simon didn’t see him. He saw Clary, and Simon would never hurt Clary, would never bite her. His heart clenched.

But he had to get blood into him. “Simon, drink,” he said, this time trying a more commanding tone. 

Jace could see him losing strength, but still Simon shook his head, moving away. Frustration rose alongside his fear, but he swallowed it down. He was supposed to be Clary; he had to act like her.

“Come on,” he started, but then softened his voice. “It’s okay, feed.” It was the same voice Clary had used when reassuring him while the demon venom ran through his veins. _How ironic,_ said a voice in his head, _that it turned out you already had demon in you._

“Careful, Clarissa.” Valentine’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Jace heard it, was reminded of where he was. This was more than just saving Simon.

 _But was it?_ Somehow Jace felt that saving Simon was the only important thing right now. And he had to drink.

And Simon was sniffing at his wrist now, as if he’d finally noticed the blood there, and Jace wasn’t sure if it was anything he’d said at all or if Simon even knew what he was doing, but the next thing he knew there were fangs in his wrist and pain, exquisite pain radiating through his body.

Jace felt a gasp escape as his head fell back, hair that was too long tumbling down behind him. And all he knew was Simon.

Simon, and the feeling of _him_. Simon, and his teeth sunk into his wrist. Simon, and his hand coming up to grip his arm. Simon, and knowing this was more than he ever thought he could have. Simon, and his mouth on Jace’s skin. Simon, and the feeling of everything Jace was pouring out of him and spilling its way into Simon’s eager mouth. 

It felt like a communion, as if Simon was taking his very soul and devouring every piece of it, and Jace never wanted him to stop. He wanted Simon to take, and take, and take until there was nothing left of him, until he was nothing more than dust. _Pulvis et umbra sumus._ He wanted to give Simon everything.

Jace had never felt more alive, and he had never been more ready to die.

And then he felt Simon yanked away, and it felt like his life was over. He wanted to protest, but his head lolled forward, no energy left to hold it aloft, much less speak. His control slipped.

Eyes clouded with something akin to desire, he felt himself change. His hair shortened, his legs lengthened, but the pain in his arm remained a constant. He clung to it like a lifeline.

He forced his head up, meeting Simon’s eyes. Eyes that were alive, bright, and… confused. He focused on the important part: alive. Simon was okay.

The relief that washed over him was almost as heady as the feeling of Simon’s lips against his skin, teeth in his wrist. Jace wanted it back. But Simon was okay, and he repeated that like a mantra in his head. _He’s okay he’s okay he’s okay._ For a moment, he let himself believe that his concern had been all pretend, that he had been playing a part, but he knew he was lying to himself. He was good at that.

And it didn’t matter. Simon was not his to worry about, was not his to care about. Simon belonged to someone else, but not to him. Never to him. So he tore his eyes away from Simon’s face and forced himself to look away.

Valentine was his to worry about. Simon would be okay. And Jace was ready to destroy the Sword, and himself, to keep it that way.

**Author's Note:**

> look i have a lot of feelings about jimon and this scene in particular okay. of course i was going to write this scene. hopefully you liked it? feel free to leave comments or kudos, i appreciate all of them <3


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